


(Another) Death of a salesman

by Onyxior



Category: The Bastards Crew
Genre: Gen, canon typical petty murder, immortal space pirates babey, like an off hand ref to carmilla and d'ville, oh the first two bastards meeting huh, techincally in the Mechanisms universe but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 04:45:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19166092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onyxior/pseuds/Onyxior
Summary: Or, Arms DealerIn which the founding Bastards meet, and regrettably try to kill each other.





	(Another) Death of a salesman

The first thing Tarsa thinks upon seeing Bishop, aside from snide comments about clothing and mannerisms is _that's a damn fine arm_. Tarsa was something of a tech connoisseur, and an arm like that shouldn’t be on a planet this shitty. He was peddling some offplanet tech, junk, really, but alien enough that this planet wouldn't know it from a cure. Tarsa decided then and there they wanted that arm, it was stunning, and had just the right amount of space to have grafted weaponry, and Tarsa has lost their arms enough times that a having a spare while looking for pieces just sounded like a good idea.

 _And the moron darts into a side alley,_ Gods, this could not be easier! A silent sneak in stiff heels and-

“Hand over the hand Mister!” Tarsa pulled the first pistol they felt from their skirt, a piddly looking thing that shot straight radiation, and aimed square between his eyes. “I’d prefer not to microwave your brains.” This was, strictly speaking, true. Radioactivity isn't a spectacular death, all things considered.

“That's a cute peashooter lady-”

‘-Not a Lady-’

“ _Pal._ ” The man straightens his waistcoat. “If you like the arm so much, I can introduce you to the person who made it!”

“I’m not particularly a fan of waiting, not very fun. Nor is this peashooter, I’m afraid.” They shove it back int a pocket, on the left, and produce a new weapon on the right, an hard light crossbow, with exploding bolts.

“Much better!” There is a quick blur and the thunk of a short range crossbow attack.

The bolt wonderfully explodes the head, leaving bits on the wall of the alley grimier than they had started.

“Damn, the firework didn’t go off.” Tarsa lightly kicks the corpse over as they disengage the arm. “Thanks for the test though!”

As they begin to walk off they hear an uncomfortably moist sound of growing. A _familiar_ sound.

“The person who made that arm, I think you would like meet, _I said._ ” The face is still reforming, but the body is sitting up right. “You really went and shot me?” An eye grows, socket mostly formed, skin half made. “This is _fucking_ uncomfortable!”

A pistol (old fashioned, a museum piece, Tarsa thinks) flows quickly up and fires once, into their corset and again into their heart. It stops, and they hit the ground hard. They do not die.

“Was it Doctor Carmilla perchance?” Tarsa feels the bullet spit out of the wound and the flesh heal sluggishly behind it. “I would very much like to kill her. Again.”

The man, his head more or less regened walks over to them in shock.

“Ah,” he says. “You’ve met then. You a Mechanism?”

“Am not! D’ville had me made special. Said he likes my weapons, and didn’t want his supply dying out. Made the doc death proof me at gunpoint!”

“And here I thought _I_ was the special one. She made me cos she liked me.”

“Tarsa. Azargun.” They stuck out the mechanical arm, as a greeting and olive branch.

He took it.

“Doctor Bishop-Henry Letchford, at your service.” He pulls them up from they alley where they were lying, and reattaches the arm.

Tarsa looks at him sideways. “So… ”

“So.”

“You wanna get offa this dump?”

“Gods, please.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ah yes, the start of the mass posting of the bastards content from RQDBFC.  
> We might make a collection at some point, as there is a LOT of characters and bits of canon here and there.  
> Anyhow.  
> See you next time.  
> -Bert


End file.
